


Shit-Faced-Black-Out-Drunk

by AwesomeMango7



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol, Not Bad, black-out drunk, i can’t tell if this is fluff??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:16:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeMango7/pseuds/AwesomeMango7
Summary: Rick wakes up without any memory of the previous night and finds a note from Morty on the table.Nothing bad, I promise. Just a funny  explanation of the previous night.





	Shit-Faced-Black-Out-Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> This is just... whatever. Idk. I was board. Enjoy!

Rick groaned loudly as he lifted his head off the table in the garage. He had a pounding headache behind his eyes, and his vision was slightly blurry. It wasn't unlike Rick to wake up like this, given that he often got too drunk at night to remember to go his bed before passing out. He'd woken up in weirder places before...

 

Once, he had even woken up on the roof of the house with no knowledge of the previous night.

 

Morty told him he tried to use another nutrino bomb to destroy the Earth, and when the teen disarmed it, Rick got pissy about it, and flew off into space when he managed to escape his supervision.

 

Morty often had to watch over Rick when he got black-out drunk, because he literally became the most unpredictable being in the universe. And soon, Morty grew to find out that his unpredictability was actually predictable to the point where he could control it. _Mostly._

 

It was almost like he learned another language when it came to keeping Rick tame when he was like that. But even if you become fluent in another language other than your own, you still choke up on your words sometimes. And on these 'choke up' moments, Rick would slip through his fingers, and escape to go do something drastic. Luckily, Summer was there to help with that kind of stuff a majority of the time too, so it was actually pretty rare that Rick was able to do something that caused too much harm.

 

And he still doesn't know how he managed to pass out on the fucking roof that one time. His Portal Gun was in the garage, and his Spaceship was in the middle of the front yard after he probably crash landed it when returning from space that night.

 

_Had he climbed?_ Rick didn't know, and neither did anyone in his family. They were all asleep when Rick had come home that night.

 

Rick had also discovered, to his utter confusion, that he had a hastily healed stab wound on his arm, a bunch of bruises across his body, and a knife slash across his forehead. A bunch of shit was also missing from his Spaceship, and it looked like it had taken a few hits. Another black-out drunk adventure to add to the list.

 

But that was a few months ago. In present day, he was here, waking up to a brutal hangover and no memory from the night before. He was actually glad that he wasn’t somewhere completely random— it makes him feel a little more at ease when he wakes up somewhere familiar. It lets him know that he hadn’t managed to somehow screw himself. But seriously, how many times had he woken up without any memories of the previous night? _Enough times to just not care about what happened the night before anymore. Though, he always was sort of curious..._

 

Rick ran a hand though his knotted and greasy blue hair, wincing as the pain behind his eyes became more intense, especially in his right eye. He could hardly see from that one, and it felt swollen. He reached his hand up, prodding at it gently to confirm the suspicion that perhaps he had a black-eye.

 

He began looking himself over, making sure everything else was intact, only to notice he was randomly wearing a neck-tie. "W-whatthefuck?" Rick slurred his words together, glaring down at it with suspicion and confusion.

 

He untied it and pulled it off over his head, setting it down on the table next to the plate of food that was near to where his head had been laying. The plate contained eggs and bacon, though the food had long since gone cold. "Huh..." Rick murmurs, reaching a hand down to pick up a little slip of folded paper that was neatly tucked halfway underneath the plate. It had the word "open" on the front of it, causing Rick’s curiosity to peak. He didn’t often get letters from people upon waking up from his drunken, forgotten nights.

 

He unfolded the paper with his spidery fingers, and what he found inside was a note from Morty, weirdly enough. His handwriting was like chicken-scratch, but Rick could still read it. He could tell it was Morty’s handwriting because of the way the "Y's" and "G's" tails were looped. And the "the's" seemed to mash together, and lack half of the "H."

 

_'Hey, so... You probably don’t remember anything from last night. Obviously you got shit-faced-black-out-drunk. Good for you. Have fun with the hangover.'_

 

Rick sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Morty. Y-y-y-you don't have to fucking— to fucking explain.” He muttered to himself, continuing to read the letter.

 

_'And btw, you literally forced me to go on an adventure where you killed the owner of an orphanage, because you thought he was holding all of the orphans hostage. Brilliant act of heroism, Rick. Even though you had good intentions for once, you really fucked over all those orphans.'_

 

Rick frowned at that. It sounded like something he would do while that drunk. Wait, heroism? What the fuck? Did he just want to kill that guy, or did he actually think he was saving the orphans? God, he could get really fucking stupid when he was like that.

 

_'Buuuuuuut I can't really blame you,_ _because we later discovered that the Orphanage Owner had raped about half of them. And then there was the whole rebellion thing where you were talking about defending the "Chicken overlords" or some shit, and then we took down the government on that planet. You stole a neck-tie from the dude that was like their version of a President, because you thought you looked cool when you wore it, and the other guy didn’t deserve it because he wasn’t a “space man.” I think by “space man” you mean “astronaut” because you failed to say that word at least six times before you settled for the dumber way to say it. I guess you’re kind of are an astronaut?? And I guess I am too???? Kinda???? I mean, we go to fucking space all the time, if that counts is an astronaut. But man, you reeeeaaallllyy wanted that neck-tie Rick, and you killed him for it.'_

 

Rick looked down at the neck-tie. It was dark blue, with little stars and spaceships littered all across it. Huh. That explains why he stole the damn thing. He probably thought it was ironic, or funny when he saw it. If he knew one thing about himself when he was drunk, it was that he thought things like that were /really/ funny.

 

One time, Morty came back from the store with Beth, and was wearing a t-shirt with cool looking spaceship on the front of it that almost looked exactly like Rick’s spaceship. Rick instantly thought it was ironic, and then he listened to Beth tell a story about how Morty was laughing his ass off and begging her to buy it. So apparently both of them thought it was funny when they saw something that involved space, because the two of them go to space all the time.

 

_'Then we casually went to a fast food restaurant in space, and you acted like nothing happened. However, you were really spaced out and I had to order your pancakes for you because the waitress couldn’t understand what I like to call your “drunken speech.” Last, we came home, and you said you needed to work on... I think it was called a "Telepathic ScrewDriver." Rick, what the fuck even is a "telepathic screwdriver????" What. The. Fuck. You seriously need to explain that one to me, because it really confuses the shit out of me. Like... is it a screwdriver that can read minds or something? Because that’s literally the only thing I can make sense out of that name. Anyway, I went to bed, and when I came down this morning, you were passed out at the table. I don't see a telepathic screwdriver, or whatever the fuck that is, so I'm assuming it didn't take long for you to pass out.'_

 

Rick paused his reading for a second trying to figure out what the fuck a telepathic screwdriver is. He didn't even know himself. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It was pointless to decipher his black-out drunk induced ideas.

 

_'Mom made breakfast, and I made you a plate. I'll probably be at school by the time you read this, but whatever. Oh! And if you're wondering about your blackeye... you got punched in the face by this leprechaun-looking guy that was apparently the President of that planet we were on’s bodyguard. I don't know what he really was, I just know that he really really really looked like a leprechaun. Eat. Or at least drink some damn water. You're hungover, so stop being a bitch, and just except that your body is in need of water and food. Alright, I've gotta go to school. Cya Grampa Rick._

_-Your idiot grandson, Morty.'_

 

Rick reached a hand up and felt around his right eye. It was swollen, and sensitive. He winced when he pushed down too hard. Well, at least he knows what happened, thanks to Morty.

 

He set the note down on the table and grabbed ahold of the water bottle that was next to the plate of food. He chugged it down until the water was gone, and then he started nibbling on his cold food. It wasn't very good cold, but it was better than nothing.

 

And Morty had been kind enough to bring this to him after he probably cost him a lot of sleep by dragging him to god knows where, and putting him through the hell of keeping track of him.

 

"Thanks, Morty..." Rick muttered.

**Author's Note:**

> The end! What do you guys think? .-.


End file.
